


The Ring's the Thing

by Devereauxs_Disease



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Crack, Fluff, Hannibal and Will fight over a dog, Hannibal and Will get a dog, M/M, Will is a pissy mess, and terriers, business as usual, hannibal is an asshole, the dog steals Will's wedding ring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-25
Updated: 2018-04-25
Packaged: 2019-04-27 23:01:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14436015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Devereauxs_Disease/pseuds/Devereauxs_Disease
Summary: Post fall, Hannibal and Will are married, but still adjusting to life as a contemporary serial killing couple. When they get into a fight over the dog, Will flees to the shed and takes off his wedding ring, which the dog promptly steals. Can Will get the ring back without Hannibal noticing?





	The Ring's the Thing

**Author's Note:**

> So...this is based on a thing that actually happened to my husband. Don't trust dogs around rings, people. 
> 
> As always Gwilbers saves you all from my horrendous typos and plot problems, you should be thankful - I know I am!

          Will kicked open the door to his work shed, muttering about asshole cannibals as he stomped to his lure table. He took his wedding ring off and set it carefully on the stool next to him so it wouldn’t get scratched as he wrapped bone and feathers around his hooks. He cared about being married, even if Hannibal didn’t.

          Sighing, Will pulled out some feathers. He needed to replenish his grizzly king lures since Hannibal had raided his supplies, mounting the ones he deemed the best and displaying them in their study. So far, Will had lost 18 lures to Hannibal’s aesthetics.  He’d have to make the next batch uglier so they’d be left in his box.

          He’d been meaning to make Hannibal a set of decorative lures, filled with little bits from their six kills together. He had been saving bone fragments, hair, and cloth from each victim, tucking them into an old oil can until he had time to craft a few angel and dragon tail flies. He’d mount them himself on a piece of cherry wood he’d already sanded and stained so it perfectly matched their bed frame. Will could already picture the way Hannibal’s eyes would glow with pleasure when he inspected the lures.  

          He had time now, but he’d be damned if he spent his sulking time making Hannibal fucking Lecter a present.

          Will wasn’t even mad about the damn treats, really, it was the lying. He had always known getting a dog would be a risk with Hannibal. Will had visions nightly of the dog being gutted when it chewed the wrong loafer or pissed on the herb garden. And though Hannibal had stayed his hand when Alfie, the terrier mix with a torn ear and stubborn demeanor, had gnawed through the leg of an rococo chair and dug up the tomatoes, they weren’t exactly…friends.  

          Alfie would be lolling on his back, tongue out as Will scratched his belly, only to freeze when Hannibal entered a room and immediately vacate the furniture.

          “You could try being nicer to him.”

          “Is he sleeping outside?”

          “No.”

          “Then I’ll thank you both to acknowledge my benevolence.”

          Will had just started to accept the fact that Hannibal and Alfie would never be friends when he started noticing two suspicious things. The first, was that Alfie was suddenly nowhere to be found. Whenever Will looked for him, he’d find the little terrier sitting at Hannibal’s feet, gazing adoringly at the cannibal.

          Even more suspicious: Alfie was gaining weight.

          At first, Will chalked the pudge up to finally getting steady meals in a loving home. But when he started taking the little grey terrier on his runs, and Alfie continued to plump up, Will began to put the pieces together.

          His guess was confirmed when he watched the little terrier come in from a run and immediately skitter to the kitchen. Usually, Will would run up the stairs for a shower, and if he was lucky, Hannibal would follow him for some quality soap time. Will decided to forgo the shower for a few moments. He followed Alfie on silent feet to the kitchen door.

          “How was your run, Alfred?” Hannibal said to the dog, looking around quickly before bending to scratch the dog’s ears. Will’s eyes went wide as Hannibal slid his hands down and hefted the fat little dog into his arms. “I think a reward is in order for keeping daddy company, don’t you?”

          Hannibal opened the fridge, selected a sausage and fed it whole into Alfie’s waiting maw. A second sausage followed. By the fourth, Will cleared his throat, causing Alfie to be dropped and Hannibal to blush, a half-eaten sausage still grasped in his fingers.

          “I’m trying to get him to drop a few pounds, you know.”

          “I was simply-”

          “Fattening him up to cook?”

          Hannibal glared, tossing the rest of the sausage to Alfie and closing the fridge. Will grinned. “I was trying to ingratiate myself without having to touch that disgusting ball you throw for him.”

          “Well, wear gloves and start throwing it,” Will said, crossing the kitchen to pull Hannibal to him. “Because that little butterball is off treats until he loses five pounds.”

          Hannibal huffed in Will’s arms. “You’re sweaty.”

          “Better wash me then.” Will stepped back, peeling off his sweaty shirt and tossing it to Hannibal, smiling when the cannibal chased him up the stairs, Alfie barking as he followed them.

          For two weeks, Will had thought Hannibal was obeying his requests. But Alfie wasn’t getting any thinner, and he still liked hanging around Hannibal. In the grand scheme of things, Hannibal making their dog fat was far from the doctor’s biggest crime, but still, it irked Will that a simple request was subject to the whims of Hannibal’s benevolence.

          When Will confronted Hannibal, it only got worse.

          “You asked me to stop.”

          Will’s head throbbed. Typical Hannibal, not a lie or a denial, just a refraction of the truth meant to confuse and placate those he considered stupid. Will felt something churning in his gut. He knew he should drop it, walk away until he felt calm, but he was tired of avoiding conflict.

          “I know you’re feeding him,” Will snarled. “And that you think I’m stupid enough to be soothed by your little word games is fucking infuriating.”

          “Why ask questions you know the answer to?” Hannibal continued stirring cream into his coffee and ignoring Will’s anger in favor of glancing at his paper.

          “BECAUSE I THOUGHT WE’D GOTTEN PAST THIS!” Will snatched the paper and tore it, earning a frown from Hannibal. The doctor sat up with a sigh, as if he was being forced to deal with a petulant child.

          “Let me see if I can pinpoint your anger,” Hannibal broke out his psychiatrist voice, which only made Will want to stab things. “You’re upset that the dog is fat and likes me? When before you were upset because he was underfed and didn’t like me?”

          “I ASKED YOU TO STOP FEEDING HIM!” Alfie chose this moment to stand at Hannibal’s feet and let out a scolding bark at Will. The goddamn terrier was siding with Hannibal, of course. That’s what Hannibal did, took the things you loved and turned them against you.

          “It seems Alfred would prefer you lowered your voice.”

          Will laughed, the sound flat and bitter as it left his mouth. “I already knew I couldn’t trust you with a daughter, I suppose it was too much to hope I could trust you with a fucking dog.”

          The blow landed magnificently, Hannibal’s placid face twitching, his eyes lowering for a fraction of a second. Will didn’t take any satisfaction in the little victory, his stomach lurched when he saw Hannibal’s fingers clench on the kitchen counter.

          “I’m going to my shed. I don’t want lunch. I don’t want dinner. And I don’t want to see you.” Will turned on his heel, marching for the backdoor. He paused, pointing at Alfie. “Try not to slit his throat while I’m gone.”

          He didn’t look back for Hannibal’s expression, but felt a grim satisfaction when Alfie followed him out the door.

          Now, twisting wire around a piece of feather, Will was starting to feel unsettled.

          “I went too far, didn’t I?” He asked Alfie, who rested his grey muzzle on the stool next to Will’s ring.

          “He always does this. He decides what’s best and does whatever the fuck he wants.”

          Alfie huffed.

          “I know he was trying to bond with you, but he lied! We’re supposed to be equals and he treats me like one of the pigs we butcher.”

          Alfie cocked his head, sniffing at the wood.

          “So what…I’m just supposed to let you get fat? Because Hannibal doesn’t want to toss a ball?”

          The dog looked at him, blinking. Will ran a hand through his hair. “I know I shouldn’t have said it, OK? I just, he’s so fucking calm and sometimes I just need to hurt him to know he’s human.”

          Alfie barked.

          “FUCK, ALRIGHT! I’ll apologize,” Will’s hand dropped to his smile, the scar tissue bumpy under his t-shirt. “Later.”

          Alfie’s head dropped back to the stool. Will rolled his eyes.

          “You don’t understand, it’s always best to give him a minute after you hurt his feelings.”

          Alfie snorted and trotted out of the shed. Will scratched the back of his head. Maybe the dog was right. Maybe he should just march himself back into the kitchen and apologize. Maybe they could talk about their issues without resorting to bloodshed.

          Hell, it was worth a shot.

          Will stored his lures and stood, groping for his ring. He turned when he didn’t feel it on the stool. There was nothing there but a wet spot where Alfie’s nose had been.

          Shit.

          The fucking dog.

          “ALFIE!” Will tried to keep the panic out of his voice as he ran out of the shed. A little grey tail wagged from the kitchen door as the dog took off into the yard. “COME! ALFIE, COME! ALFIE YOU FURRY SHIT COME HERE!”

          Will chased the dog around the yard four times before the little terrier surprised him with a hook turn, running through Will’s legs and into the front yard. For such a tubby thing, Alfie was still pretty fast.

          Tumbling as he tried to pivot mid-stride, Will landed in the grass and let the panic wash over him.

          This was bad.

          This was stabbing in the kitchen bad.

          There was no way Hannibal would see this as accidental, not after Will started a fight and threw Abigail in his face. He’d think Will did it to hurt him, not that the goddamn dog decided it would be a fun game.

          Will had to get the ring back, before Hannibal noticed. It was the only way he was going to survive the day.

          Pushing himself up from the ground, Will sprinted to the front yard.

          He hadn't lived this long, just to die because of the whims of a terrier.

* * *

 

          Two hours.

          Will had been trailing Alfie for two hours and he hand no idea where the wire-haired bastard had stashed his damn ring. When Will had finally tackled the little dog and pried its mouth open, he’d found nothing but a lolling tongue and teeth that needed a good brushing. Apparently 75 people sausages a day built up quite a lot of plaque. 

          With a groan, Will noted the dog had fresh dirt caked on his paws, meaning that the ring was probably buried. Will would be too, if he didn’t find it. Now, the empath was reduced to following the dog around, hoping he’d eventually lead Will to a spot with freshly overturned dirt. He’d seen the curtains move inside the house, which meant Hannibal knew Will was crawling around the exterior with the dog. He hoped the doctor thought this was just how Will and Alfie played and didn’t decide to come outside and inquire.

          Finally, Alfie decided Will was boring and moved to the backyard, where he carefully sniffed at Hannibal’s herb garden. Will practically cheered when he noticed a patch of freshly churned earth at the corner near where Alfie was snuffling.

          Pushing the dog to the side, Will sank his hands into the earth. Spades were for people who wouldn’t get stabbed by their husband. On the third handful of earth, Will’s fingers hit something solid. He could have cried he was so relieved.

          “WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO MY SCALLIONS?” Hannibal stood in the doorway, apron tied around his waist, looking utterly horrified.

          Will fell backwards, his hand clutching around something far too large to be a ring. Glancing at his hand, he recognized one of Hannibal’s Italian loafers. It had been mauled before Alfie had decided to bury the evidence.

          Hannibal took in the scene, his mouth forming a moue. “This is childish, even for you.”

          “I didn’t bury your goddamn loafer! Hannibal!” Will moved to follow his cannibal only to freeze. He still had no ring and now Hannibal thought he was burying his footwear in the garden. Now wouldn’t be a good time.

          Will turned to glare at Alfie, who rolled onto his back and kicked his paws in the air.

          “Yeah, laugh it up, fleabag. He’ll probably roast you when he’s done with me.”

* * *

 

          It was nearly dinner time, the sun starting to sink beyond the trees and Will was starting to accept the fact that he was going to die tonight.

          So far, Alfie had led him to three loafers, an ascot, a bone of undetermined origin, a sock, Will’s boxers, Hannibal’s reading glasses, a watch that Will was pretty sure didn’t belong to either him or Hannibal, and a bra that Will was certain didn't belong to anyone living in their house. The dog was a kleptomaniac with a burial fetish, but Will still hadn’t found his wedding ring.

          When Alfie squatted in the front yard, terrible, disgusting inspiration hit Will.

          “You ate it, didn’t you, you little shit?”

          Alfie ignored him and kicked some fresh dirt and grass on his pile.

          “Fuck.”

          Will walked to the shed and opened what he had affectionately started calling _The Murder Trunk_. He pushed aside two plastic suits, a box of scalpels, and rope, finally finding the pack of latex gloves. Snapping them on, he marched over to the pile of shit with a great sigh.

          Alfie sat, watching Will intently, his tail wagging.

          “I should have gotten a cat,” Will muttered, sinking his hand into the poop.

          He had just sifted through every piece when he heard the kitchen door open.

          “Will, I really think we should speak about-”

          The silence was worse than yelling. Will raised his hands, which were coated in latex and dog shit, trying to find a reasonable explanation.

          “ALRIGHT!” Hannibal threw his hands in the air. “I admit I gave the mongrel a few pieces of my roast when you were gone yesterday instead of handling that terrible smelling food you insist upon. I give him bits of sausage too! Is it so horrible that one thing in the house likes me? Did you really need to sort through excrement to find the evidence?”

          “I KNEW IT!” Will pointed a finger at Hannibal, a chunk of poo falling from his gloved hand.

          “Yes, well, you were always astute.” Hannibal cleared his throat. “If you’ll excuse me I think I’ll go to bed.”

          “Hannibal! Wait! I didn’t-” But Hannibal was gone. Will was left with a handful of shit and a dog prancing around him in circles.

          Alfie nosed Will as the empath carefully pulled the gloves off.

          “I hope you’re happy, I’m probably getting stabbed and I have to say I was wrong.”

          Alfie wagged his tail.

* * *

 

The door to their bedroom was open. Will took that as a good sign. It was an invitation to come in and it meant that with a clear field of vision Hannibal likely wasn’t planning a surprise attack.

          Will still knocked on the doorjamb, waiting for Hannibal to look up from his tablet. “Hey.”

          Hannibal raised an eyebrow. “I hope you’ve washed your hands.”

          Will snorted. “Six times. I think we need thicker gloves.”

          Hannibal regarded Will silently in a way that made the empath want to hide.

          With a sigh, Will stepped forward. “OK, I worked on a whole thing I need to say and I need you to promise me you won’t stab me until I’m done.”

          Hannibal’s jaw ticked. He sat his tablet on the nightstand. “I can promise it will be quick.”

          Will laughed, sitting on the edge of the bed next to Hannibal, pressing his hip into the doctor’s. “I’ll take it.”

          Will held up his left hand. Hannibal frowned.

          “Will-”

          “Wait! Look, I take it off when I work on my lures, because I scratched the hell out of the ring Molly gave me and I didn’t want that for our ring.” Will swallowed, pointing at Alfie. “And he took it when I didn’t notice and I think he fucking ate or buried it. By the way, I found three of your loafers and a Rolex? Also a bra. We should fence the yard.”

          Hannibal looked to the dog, who had the grace to duck his furry head.

          Will grabbed Hannibal’s face and pulled his cannibal’s focus back to him. “I just…I want you to know this isn’t a sign. Or some kind of fucking passive aggressive dig. I…I love you. Even when I hate you. Even when I’m screaming and throwing Abigail at you to get a reaction, I’ve…I’ve never been happier. And you suck sometimes, you really do. You lie, you make our dog fat, you throw out all my E-Z Mac because god forbid I eat one thing in this house you haven’t approved, you get this superior attitude that makes me fucking crazy-”

          Will waved his hands in the air, shaking his head.

          “But that doesn’t matter. Not really, because you see me. I’ve never felt more like myself, more relaxed than when I’m with you. And if that means I have to yell sometimes and eat ridiculous Gruyere macaroni, or that our dog is a lard-ass…that’s fine. I’ll still be the happiest man alive.” Will felt his eyes getting prickly and cleared his throat. “In conclusion. It was an accident. It doesn’t mean I don’t love you. Please don’t kill our dog.”

          Hannibal caught Will’s hands, bringing them to his lips. Will smiled, when Hannibal kissed his ring finger, nipping lightly at the bare flesh where a band of gold should be.

           “Though it seems we’ve been at this for all eternity, our relationship, in this permutation, is fairly new. Some growing pains are to be expected. As are fights.” Hannibal rubbed his chin along Will’s fingers, the empath thrilled at the scratching sensation. “We’ve had some setbacks, but nothing abnormal.”

          “Yeah, we’re just a normal everyday cannibalistic couple,” Will laughed. “The only abnormal thing about us is that weird thing you have for feet.”

          Hannibal smirked. “If it’s any consolation for the _weird thing I have for your feet_ , you should know I believe Alfred and I have genuinely bonded.”

          Will raised an eyebrow. “You have?”

          “I assume my giving him the roast prompted him to offer me a similar treat,” Hannibal slipped his hand into his pajama pants, producing a golden ring.

          “You watched me go out of my head this whole goddamn day.”

          Hannibal’s grin grew. Will couldn’t even be surprised. This was the same man who let his brain burn just to see what he would do. This was the same man who had let the tension between them build until Will jumped him one day at the farmer’s market in Córdoba, knocking over a pile of peaches in his haste to shove his hand down Hannibal’s pants. This was the same man who would be making Will crazy for the rest of his life.

          Will lunged forward, straddling Hannibal to grab the ring. Hannibal grinned when he released it, watching as Will eagerly slipped it back on his finger. Will looked up from his hand, a soft smile on his face.

          “I love you so much,” the empath murmured, cupping Hannibal’s face and pressing a slow kiss to his lips. “It’s a shame you drove me to this.”

          Will grabbed a pillow and started smacking Hannibal’s evil head. Hannibal huffed throwing his arms up to try and block Will’s blows. Will raised the pillow over his head and dramatically brought it down, pretending to smother Hannibal. The pillow shook from Hannibal’s laughs.

          Something tugged at Will, he turned to see Alfie’s teeth in his cargo shorts, trying to pull the empath off of Hannibal.

          “Traitor!” Will accused, reaching down to ruffle the hair behind Alfie’s ears. Hannibal used the distraction to reach from under the pillow and dig his fingers into the sensitive patches of flesh under Will’s arms. Will yelped, laughing wildly as he continued smacking at Hannibal.

          Will froze, pillow poised in the air, when a memory struck him: He and Molly, in their cramped cabin bed. Will had just confessed he’d brought home another stray, and Molly had declared him _a dead man_ before hitting him with a pillow, both of them laughing hysterically.

          Will had thought he’d given up that type of silly play when he chose Hannibal. He had never imagined that he could have both the banal domesticity he longed for and the darkness he needed. But here he was pretending to beat Hannibal ‘the cannibal’ Lecter to death with a pillow, grinning like a fool. He hadn’t had to choose between a happy home life and his base impulses, Hannibal could give him both.

          Will didn’t realize he was crying until he felt Hannibal’s fingers brushing the tears from his cheeks. He blinked, coming back to the moment and finally noticing the fear in Hannibal’s eyes.

          “Will, please, there’s no need.” Hannibal looked so worried. “I’ll feed the beast whatever you want.”

          Will couldn’t stop the laughter. He pressed his face to Hannibal’s chest, drinking in the scent as he gasped for air. “Swear to me that you’ll always sneak him food.”

          “What?”

          Will sat up, stroking his thumbs over Hannibal’s cheeks. He smiled at his infuriating, insane, perfect husband, tears still in his eyes. “Promise me, Hannibal.”

          Hannibal furrowed his brow, but nodded seriously. “I…I swear I will forever sneak the dog food.”

          “Thank you.” Will kissed Hannibal again, taking time to lick into his cannibal’s mouth. They both wore silly grins when they pulled apart.

          Then, Will hit Hannibal with the pillow again...


End file.
